Lotus- Aakriti Kuntal

Aakriti Lotus

Upwards,

these lips, boat-like

inundating rivers

within their pondering girth

Upwards,

this skin, cellophane treasures

collecting color from the

sky’s subservience

Upwards,

hand, mouth, body

Organs shattering in

coalescent proximity

I raise my head

to an uneven sun

Watch its cadenced portions

Clouds ablaze against

the hum of detonation

I raise my body, my skin,

my entire being

My cheeks frosting

like cream

The irregular elongation

of life’s symptoms;

a fat ellipse around

my belly

I raise my departed teeth,

my chiseled naivety,

my tapping feet

I buzz and blink,

my face a periwinkle pink

The forgotten trick of

forgetfulness

clawing at my lip

I draw my navel to the mouth

and perch like a lotus

I raise

my body,

my skin,

my entire being

I spill

white like the flashing night

And I never burn

Poem and photograph by Aakriti Kuntal


Aakriti, aged 25, is a poetess from India. She writes because for her it is the most beautiful way to endure life. Aakriti writes for the Writings of Aakriti Kuntal, and her work has been published in 1947 Literary Journal, Duane’s PoeTree blog, Tuck Magazine and Indian Periodical among others. She won the Reuel International Prize 2017 for upcoming poet.

Expanse- Aakriti Kuntal

Aakriti Expanse
Sky devolves,
loose cloth,
parchment of coarse light
shifting through time
The skinny arm
of peacock trees,
goes round and round
collapsing like a skeleton
over rescued breath
Exhaling
a cold blue mist
over flakes of leftover fingers
I watch my body, hanging
Like a dusty day
over horizons
And for a minute there
I believe

that my arms are as wide as light

Poem and photograph by Aakriti Kuntal


Aakriti, aged 25, is a poetess from India. She writes because for her it is the most beautiful way to endure life. Aakriti writes for the Writings of Aakriti Kuntal, and her work has been published in 1947 Literary Journal, Duane’s PoeTree blog, Tuck Magazine and Indian Periodical among others. She won the Reuel International Prize 2017 for upcoming poet.

Offering- Aakriti Kuntal

Aakriti Offering
Give me swollen hands
Brandished, perforated, silver leek of rum
My mouth is a tangy trench
it yearns for terrible things
.
Place slender bones
beneath my tongue
Let me study their dents
where the earth burned and the meteor rejoiced
between saliva and epidermal forests
Skin hanging between teeth
truth like octopus on water trees
flesh inside flesh, color flossing cloth jaws
Give me arms, that take worms like love,
that have entered the soil, its bloody wrath, its desolate entirety,
where men sleep forever, no different from lamb peel
rubber veins that have cuddled death and fallen stars,
their mass graves inside stem cells
Give me the parabolic breath of an awakened thumb,
fingers that nibble and immerse in films of milk,
outstretched and clawing, with pink flesh like powder,
where God served judgment too early,
Give me tiny deaths in my mouth,
I will lick them all
as my cheekbones slope like cement sinks
under the weight of dribbling water
Give me the color of falling light
Let me wear it on my face
the absoluteness of truth
prismatic lights, shadows and rim
Let me wear violet to red under this bleeding nose
Maybe then, you can see
The truth

that so aches to be seen

Poem and photograph by Aakriti Kuntal


Aakriti, aged 25, is a poetess from India. She writes because for her it is the most beautiful way to endure life. Aakriti writes for the Writings of Aakriti Kuntal, and her work has been published in 1947 Literary Journal, Duane’s PoeTree blog, Tuck Magazine and Indian Periodical among others. She won the Reuel International Prize 2017 for upcoming poet.

Hallucination- Aakriti Kuntal

Aakriti Hallucination
Vapors, inhaled and exhaled,
your porous skin whistles
Your skin has melted my darling
and lit these oiled sinks that I call palms
Here I collect you, between my threaded selves
Weave you with a needle in my teeth
and carve you
Your incense, bourbon patches on my winter body
I cling to you
dance on your shoulders, see-saw and rhythms
I think the atmosphere is in my mouth
and I have begun to choke
So I slide into you, legs first
lungs floating in saline bowls
and disintegrate on the tip of your tongue
I think I’m all grey, my love
I think I’m all grey
and that’s never gonna change
for you are not really here
For women like me
who carry a floppy womb of fate
and tyres on our belly
The worms of destiny and sheets of uncertainty
You are not really here
You are just pink powder
in my salivating throat
Bubble and broth,
frothing and flowing down my braids

I think I want you even like this

Poem and photograph by Aakriti Kuntal


Aakriti, aged 25, is a poetess from India. She writes because for her it is the most beautiful way to endure life. Aakriti writes for the Writings of Aakriti Kuntal, and her work has been published in 1947 Literary Journal, Duane’s PoeTree blog, Tuck Magazine and Indian Periodical among others. She won the Reuel International Prize 2017 for upcoming poet.

The Shame and Fear We Sow-Sergio Ortiz

billards

 [Poem and photo by Sergio Ortiz]

 

It’s no longer Build the Wall

or Lock Her Up, now it’s Shoot the Bitch

and Hang the Nigger.

 

Outbursts, newsworthy metaphors,

one more fire under Nowhere Bridge,

a contemptible distraction

to my support of The Water Protectors?

 

I’m done listening to loudspeakers

announce our descent into hell.  It’s a show

of strength to be a woman,

a successful black man. Why run

 

through the corridors

of the West Wing cherry-picking slogans

for a lynch mob?

 

[ Sergio Ortiz, is a Puerto Rican poet and the founding editor of Undertow Tanka Review. He is a two time Pushcart nominee, a four time Best of the Web nominee, and a 2016 Best of the Net nominee. His poems have been published in hundreds Journals and Anthologies. He is currently working on his first full length collection of poems, Elephant Graveyard.]

 

The Shame and Fear We Sow -Introducing Sergio Ortiz

billards

 [Poem and photo by Sergio Ortiz]

 

It’s no longer Build the Wall

or Lock Her Up, now it’s Shoot the Bitch

and Hang the Nigger.

 

Outbursts, newsworthy metaphors,

one more fire under Nowhere Bridge,

a contemptible distraction

to my support of The Water Protectors?

 

I’m done listening to loudspeakers

announce our descent into hell.  It’s a show

of strength to be a woman,

a successful black man. Why run

 

through the corridors

of the West Wing cherry-picking slogans

for a lynch mob?

 

[Please welcome Sergio Ortiz, a Puerto Rican poet and the founding editor of Undertow Tanka Review. He is a two time Pushcart nominee, a four time Best of the Web nominee, and a 2016 Best of the Net nominee. His poems have been published in hundreds Journals and Anthologies. He is currently working on his first full length collection of poems, Elephant Graveyard.]